


Life Doesn't Always Persist

by thescorpiondoctor



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bittersweet, First Aid needs a heccin nap, Gen, Medics can't save everyone, PTSD, Pharma's up to no good, Sad Ending, Short One Shot, The Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye (IDW), Transformers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:00:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29113440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescorpiondoctor/pseuds/thescorpiondoctor
Summary: A sleep deprived First Aid sits next to a patient at Delphi after the war and contemplates the increasing death rate.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Life Doesn't Always Persist

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally something I wrote up to audition to roleplay as First Aid in a discord server and I thought I'd share it here because I was proud of what I'd written and wanted it to have more of an audience. I know it's really short but I hope it's enjoyable. I may write more of the aftermath of this small clip. What First Aid is drinking is the cybertronian equivalent of a can of Monster or some other energy drink. I don't know why, but I can totally imagine him slamming those down to stay awake during long shifts. I really need to get back into writing.

First Aid traced a digit around the rim of the glass, staring into the half drained container of yellow green fluid. Yeah, okay, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to take another dose of the stimulant, but his processor needed a boost and he wasn’t going to let himself fall into recharge this time around. It had been orns, possibly longer since the last time he’d gone into stasis lock. His mind was in a haze that predominated every last bit of cognitive thought. Something was wrong. He could just feel it. Four million years of war, millions of lives lost. Sometimes when he closed his optics he could still hear the screaming… the desperate voices of all the bots he failed to save. He could almost feel them closing in on him now, begging him to end their suffering. It shouldn’t be like this. First Aid shook his helm, staring closely at the drink that was supposed to keep him awake and give him energy. He’d lost count of how much he had in his systems… lost count of how long he had stayed awake to stay on watch by the patients’ sides.

A muffled groan echoed from a nearby medical berth, jolting him out of his stupor. First Aid half jumped to his pedes and rushed over, immediately looking to the console to read the patient’s vitals. The line on the monitor bounced up and down in a slow and steady cadence. A soft whimper escaped the patient’s vocalizer, and First Aid reached out, lightly touching the patient’s hand. “Shhhh- hey. Hey. It’s alright- you had a nasty scrape with the ‘cons, but you’re alright now. How are you feeling?”

A slight tremor ran through the patient’s frame in response to First Aid’s question, and the red and white mech let out a soft sigh, somewhat relieved to see the signs of life, even though the patient seemed to be in distress. At least the mech was alive, which was more than First Aid could say for a majority of the Cybertronian race. The war was over. The death rate at Delphi was supposed to be declining, not slowly increasing. He had come back to his old post because he thought it would give him a break from the carnage of war, but all it did was bring back the memories… the hundreds of faces whose lives he could have saved if he had known what was wrong with them.

“I can’t let you die on me-” He murmured, the tip of his right index digit sliding back, a beam of light passing over the patient as First Aid did another medical scan, checking over the patient’s frame for anything that might indicate a problem. The vitals were normal. Everything looked good- it seems with this patient at least, things were looking up. Maybe it was safe to close his optics for just a nano-klik so he could be a bit more lively the next time Ambulon or Pharma came in. After all, his shift had been over joors ago. He was only staying with the patients because he wanted to be there in case anything went wrong. It was probably a hopeless effort, but an effort nonetheless and he was desperately trying to do something to protect them, although he had no idea what he was fighting… no idea what he was truly up against.

The patient’s optics flickered open, blinking for a moment. First Aid felt a smile tugging at his intake. The patient was awake- this showed even more progress. If anything, at least this bot was going to live. “Can you hear me?” He softly asked, a flicker or warmth and relief rippling through his EM field. The patient nodded.

“What-.... Where?” The patient hoarsely croaked out.

“You’re at the Delphi medical facility on the planet Messatine. I’m First Aid. How much do you remember?”

“I… remember… blaster fire… bright lights....pain… and Decepticons-! Oh primus the Decepticons-! They’re here-! They’re gonna-...”

First Aid carefully placed a hand on the patient’s shoulder to keep him laying down as he began to sit upright. “Shhhhh- shhhhh- The decepticons aren’t here. The war’s over- it’s been over for a little while now, actually. You’re safe- no one’s going to hurt you.”

“Over-? But… but how?”

“It’s a long story. For now, you should get some rest. You’re going to strain your injuries if you move around too much. You’re doing just fine.” First Aid softly replied.

The patient nodded, his optics dimming for a moment. “It’s…. Safe?”

“Yes- it’s safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise-” First Aid murmured.

The patient’s engine let out a soft humm, and First Aid could feel his own engine humming in response. The quiet of the medbay with the humm and occasional beeping of the machines made the moment feel like everything in that room was suspended outside time and space. It was so nice- a moment of peace…. Everything felt like nothing could go wrong. Even the patient seemed to be smiling now, visor dimming as the mech slipped back into recharge.

Maybe the increase in deaths was just an anomaly, and First Aid really was ‘erratic’ and ‘obsessive compulsive’. He glanced at the patient’s Autobot insignia one last time, before getting up and once again checking the readings on the monitor. Everything was as it should be. First Aid walked around the room, checking every patient’s monitor and doing one last scan on all of them just in case, his frame feeling heavier with each recharge deprived step he took. He ended his rounds back in the chair, staring at the half emptied glass of yellow-green fluid, wondering to himself if he should risk another dose. His processor was running itself in circles, slowing itself down each time around before eventually his frame slowly slumped over, his visor going dim as his optics drooped and eventually closed.

The next time he opened his optics, the patient he had sat next to was nowhere to be found…


End file.
